Catalyst
by ivyfedora
Summary: Catalyst: a substance that enables a chemical reaction to proceed under different conditions than otherwise possible. What if the first time that Sinead Starling met Jonah Wizard wasn't at a funeral, but at night on a rooftop? Sinead's life has never been normal, but now it's spiraling out of control. AU where none of the clue-hunters have met yet. JonahxSinead ftw :D
1. I Jump Off a Roof

**Summary: Catalyst: a substance that enables a chemical reaction to proceed under different conditions than otherwise possible. What if the first time that Sinead Starling met Jonah Wizard wasn't at a funeral, but at night on a rooftop? Sinead's life has never been normal, but now it's spiraling out of control. AU where none of the clue-hunters have met yet. JonahxSinead ftw :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues, Rick Riordan does! **

* * *

I reached into the small niche in between the bricks, sweat beading on my forehead. It was the dead of night in the middle of November; hopefully no one would notice a dark-garbed girl scaling the Smithsonian.

It wasn't as much to brag about like the Louvre, but the treasure I was aiming for was worth much more than mere oil-paintings and broken statues.

The rope attached to the grappling hook I'd slung around a tower's was starting to chafe my wrists. My fingers were protected by tiny pieces of duct tape wound around the tips to prevent any complete fingerprints. Gideon, I should've brought gloves.

Using my upper body strength, I pulled myself up onto the narrow window ledge.

_Don't look down, don't look down._

I used a small laser to cut a small hole through the window, barely enough for me to wriggle through.

Inside, a special spray revealed the intricate security system of the Arts and Industries' Jewett room. The building was closed to the public, but not to the Janus agents, who used the construction/renovation as a farce for a new branch base.

I did an Arabian roll to the floor, careful not to touch the bookcases which would trigger a yellow alert. If I touched an invisible laser, that would be upgraded to amber alert, sending a plethora of traps down on me.

The building was ancient, and the thermal imaging I was using wouldn't penetrate through the lead paint. Of course, I could always ask the leadership for documents, but I was in this on my own.

Stipulations for accepting the mission were crystal clear. If I made it out successfully, they'd take the prize. If I didn't; well, they didn't know me.

I reattached the laser gun to the slim utility belt dangling from my waist. To open that door, I'd need something more inconspicuous: a bobby pin.

Wriggling the hair accessory around in the door lock, I smirked. Diamonds weren't a girl's best friends, bobby pins were. They were great for picking locks and jabbing people's eyes out in hand to hand combat, among other things.

Upon opening the door, I was met with a most unpleasant sight; a room full of dancing Janus. Of all days to hold their ridiculous balls, it had to be this one?

This was an unforeseen complication.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I said to a lady on the balcony. "May I ask where you got your dress? It's simply..." I searched my vocabulary for a Janus-sounding word.

"-fantabulous!"

Like all the vain peacocks in there, she was eager to show off her sparkling garb. She turned around and was met with a fist to her face.

She crumpled to the ground with a slight moan, her feathered mask floating down delicately. It didn't even have time to touch the ground before I dragged her unconscious body behind an ornate pillar.

"So sorry ma'am," I muttered, stripping her of the green dress. It looked rather expensive, but I really couldn't care less.

I waltzed in the entrance, pretending like nothing was wrong. A lady rushed towards me, a hand over her mouth.

_Oh crap, please be talking to somebody else! I know nothing about this cover! _

"Gabby-cat!" squealed the sparkling girl in blue, hugging me tightly. Great, I don't know who the hell who she is.

I giggled nervously, before remembering it was a masquerade ball. "C'mon," I sighed in mock annoyance. "I'm not Gabby, I'm Arwen from Lord of the Rings, remember?"

Her eyes widened as she got the point. "Ooh, okay! Don't look now, but a totally hot dude is coming our way!"

Going along with the act, I made my eyes widen in false surprise. "Ooh, um, okay; what's his name?"

She pointed to a tall in a midnight blue suit who was holding a matching top hat. "That's Jonah Wizard," she said in a stage whisper, fanning herself frantically in an attempt to look normal. "He's the son of the branch leader, and like, everyone is totally wanting to date him."

He glided up to us, and I noticed three things.

One, he has a concealed dart gun up his sleeve. It's protruding slightly from the Armani tag, just above his wrist.

Two, he has the prettiest eyes. They look just like melted chocola-

I threw the thought from my mind violently. Whoever he was, he was _Janus_. Concentrate on the mission, Sinead.

I pretended to lean back casually on the bookcase, but my arm was reaching around the narrow space between _A Midsummer's Night's Dream_ and Romeo and Juliet. I grasped something, and retracted the prize quickly, stowing it away under the dress.

That meant I had ten minutes to get out before someone noticed something off. Casual, Sinead. Act normal.

"Oh," I said loudly, perhaps a bit more than usual. "We were just talking. Do you want something?"

The other girl looked awed at my brashness.

The boy tipped his hat back, offering his other white-gloved hand with a flourish. "I like your attitude. Would you like to dance?"

There was no way to decline his offer without causing undue suspicion, I realized with a jolt.

Crap, now I'm never gonna get out of here.

* * *

We waltzed around the room, making a zig-zag through the room.

"So," he said. "I heard there was an break-in earlier. Scary, huh?"

I made a remark about how the girl was sure to be caught, then mentally berated myself for doing that. Stupid, that would make him suspicious.

But no, he only raised an eyebrow.

"How are you so sure it was a she?" he asked suspicious, eyes boring into mine.

I stared back, unfazed. "Well, how are you so sure she is a he? Girls are just as good, you know."

We had a lengthy argument about if we were the robber, how we would break in. Jonah lavished praise on my strategy, which he dubbed as "creative, but impossible." _  
_

If only he knew it was real.

He was about to make a retort back about how you would need way more than two lasers, a coil of rope and a grappling hook, but then the alarms went off.

I rushed through an excuse that I had to leave, but then he caught my wrist.

"Where-" His pupils widened in understanding. "You're the thief! Who are you working for?"

We both drew our dart guns at the same time, but by the way he held it, he didn't have much knowledge of the intricate workings of a dart gun. I, on the other hand, possessed an unerring precision almost rivaling Irina Spasky's. And, I built this myself.

I bit my lip, finger applying pressure to the gun. He took a step forward, and I took a step back. We repeated this strange dance up two flights of stairs before he stopped.

"You don't have to do this," he said slowly, looking at my gun nervously. "Whatever you're working for, we can pay you."

Rolling my eyes, I ascended the last flight of stairs slowly. We were on the roof now. "Keep your money. I'm going solo."

His leg shot out in a pathetic attempt to trip me. I sidestepped it, retreating until I heard the gravel I'd just kicked fall down to the street below. Behind my back, I struck a match. The heat tickled my palm in the cold winter breeze.

Jonah looked at the paper in my hand, then at the long drop below. "You're not crazy," he said, but there was a element of doubt in his voice.

And that was all I needed.

Just as he pulled the trigger, I back-flipped over the edge, crumpling the ancient paper I'd taken and igniting it. Tossing it into the air, I plummeted towards the ground. I'd gotten a good look at it, good enough to remember everything.

There was a less than four percent chance that he'd hit his mark. There was a ninety-nine point nine chance I'd hit mine.

The odds were almost irreparably slanted in my favor, but I still lost. If they got me, I could only hope that my acting skills were as good as my captors'.

Twenty-five percent chance that the branch would send someone to get me, or one of my Ekat friends would come. Twenty-five percent was almost enough to depend on, considering that my friends were stubborn as hell and armed to the teeth with new weaponry.

Of course, the odds have not been dependable as of late.


	2. Unicorns Are Evil

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, guys! Okay, just as background info, the Last Unicorn is a movie. The 'rhyme' Sinead is referring to from the piece of paper is actually a song, which is why it's written in stanzas. I wish I was creative enough to make it up myself, but I'm not.**

**It was really fun coming up with crazy ideas about the lyrics, because I think the clue-hunters would interpret the song like a treasure map.**

**I threw some of my ideas at my brother, and he picked the ones he thought were good. (But not for this chapter; for the more adventure parts). It was mostly me saying, "do you like this idea? Oh well." But thanks, little man.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Last Unicorn, Declan Galbraith's cover of it or the 39 Clues!**

* * *

I opened my eyes to a thunderous applause and loud cheering.

I was banged quite painfully on the back by my best friend, Danielle, and congratulated by everyone else for doing a "freaking awesome job," as John put it.

The sick bay was currently occupied by a bunch of my friends, who had known about the mission all along.

"Come on," said Danielle, rolling her eyes. "There are two mission suits, and everyone knows you like the black one better. But good job; Bae Oh thinks you found a hint to a clue."

John informed me that I rolled off the roof after disposing of the hint. I fell all the way down to ground level before landing on the poor shrubbery, which explained my sore ribs and back. The paper was burnt to a crisp when the Janus went back to find me and I was gone, too.

Leadership thought even the Janus didn't know the paper existed, which meant the possibility of a whole new clue.

Danielle said that the laser gun I took had a tiny spy camera in it, courtesy of her. They'd figured I'd gone on a mission and thought, hey, since we have nothing to do and Sinead's out on an exciting mission, we can stalk her!

She had her own opinions about the mission, which were:

1. The "hey, c'mere" followed by the suckerpunch was totally epic and deserved a medal.

2. The green dress looked like I'd fallen in a glitter tub. A really, really big one.

3. Jonah's suit looked like a pimp.

She also told me that she did a little homework on that Jonah guy, and he was loaded. All John would say was "he's cool," dismissively, which was his equivalent of approval.

After she shooed everyone out (she could be very persuasive with a katana in her hand), Danielle grilled me on the piece of paper, which was probably something really important.

I recited the first part two stanzas of the rhyme, which made absolutely no sense.

_When the last eagle flies_  
_Over the last crumbling mountain_  
_And the last lion roars_  
_At the last dusty fountain_  
_In the shadow of the forest_  
_Though she may be old and worn_  
_They will stare unbelieving_  
_At the Last Unicorn_

_When the first breath of winter_  
_Throught the flowers is icing_  
_And you look to the north_  
_And a pale moon is rising_  
_And it seems like all is dying_  
_And would leave the world to mourn_  
_In the distance hear her laughter_  
_It's the Last Unicorn  
_  
_I'm alive, I'm alive_

Looking expectantly towards John, Danielle raised an eyebrow. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "You're the resident code-breaker. Got anything?"

He smirked. "Well, it seems to be very intent on reaffirming the fact that it's alive."

She smacked the back of his head before gesturing for me to continue.

_When the last moon is cast_  
_Over the last star of morning_  
_And the future has past_  
_Without even a last desperate warning_  
_Then look into the sky where through_  
_The clouds a path is formed_  
_Look and see her how she sparkles_  
_It's the Last Unicorn_

_I'm alive, I'm alive_

"Okay, now I'm serious. Got anything?"

I leaned forward, bracing myself against the food tray. "I think that the last eagle is something about the government, since the bald eagle is on the national seal. The mountain could be a place, say, where the clue is. Hang on, I need something cold."

Holding an ice pack against my sore ribs, I continued. "The last dusty fountain; that could be a once famous fountain that's now forgotten. The last lion...statues of lions are at lots of libraries, right? This part's all about where it is. But what's going to happen?"

His brow furrowed in thought. "Well, maybe it can only happen at an eclipse, you know? 'When the last moon is cast, over the last star of morning'."

Danielle's face lit up. "And it'll illuminate a path, or a star will be shining brighter or something! 'Then look into the sky, where through, the clouds, a path is formed'. And it sparkles, like a unicorn, right?"

"What, so we're looking for a sparkly Goodyear blimp?" John joked, his lips twisting into his signature half-smile. "But seriously, we've got a lot of things to go off of."

Danielle complied a list of our leads so far on a sheet of notebook paper. It wasn't official or anything, but it'd have to do until we could make a real report.

* * *

The Clue to the Clue (as interpreted by Danielle Phan, John and Sinead)

First Half

1. Last eagle = government, money?

2. Last mountain = a mountain, duh.

3. Last dusty fountain = someplace forgotten which was once famous

4. Last lion = lion statues at entrance to library?

5. Something is most definitely alive.

Second Half

1. Last moon = Lunar eclipse?

2. Last star of morning = Solar eclipse?

3. The future has past = whatever wasn't supposed to happen happened

4. Look into the sky, where through the clouds, a path is formed = the eclipse will do something to the clouds, or a national disaster will change the weather.

5. How she sparkles = the clue is sparkly, or illuminated by either moonlight or sunlight.

* * *

"Get some sleep," John said awkwardly, patting my back. "We'll see you in the morning."

As I waved goodbye to them, I felt a sinking feeling inside.

Somehow, I knew my dreams would be plagued with dusty fountains, lions and things yet to come.


	3. Math Really, Really Sucks

**A.N. ****Thanks to Volcanic Lily and Clara for reviewing :D. Just to clarify at the beginning, they're in their school dorm. **Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues! 

Chapter Three

_"I wrote this song about you, I wrote this song about you. Just to let you know, that I hate your guts. And I think, you suck.__" _

_~Your Guts - Reel Big Fish~_

Two Months Later...

Sinead POV

I slowly made my way down the stairs, dragging my hand on the elegant wooden banister. The light was on in the kitchen, making the door glow.

"Had a good night sleep?" Danielle called, rummaging in the ice-box. "Of course you did; you pushed me off the sofa. Which reminds me; go call John to wake him up. You know how lazy he is in the mornings."

She threw a bottle of orange juice at me, which I barely caught.

"...Danielle, it's four oh five. Get some more sleep."

"This coming from the girl who went to sleep at twelve and woke up at twelve oh one to do her science project."

"Touche."

I opened the ice-box again, pulling out a two-day old orange pop. It tasted of orange punch and a tad bit of Sprite, but most of the carbonation had dissipated.

My roommate gave me a lecture on how that was so unhealthy, because breakfast was the most important meal of the day. I retorted with a comment about how obsessing over a stupid unicorn song for two months wasn't exactly the pinnacle of health, either.

"I don't get it," she sighed, twirling a strand of her floppy black hair around her index finger. "It's been months, Sinead. Why didn't we get anywhere?"

"We're in school," I said firmly, plucking a bit of lint off the red uniform jacket hanging from the door. It was so unfair that the boys' coats were much warmer than the skimpy little windbreakers we were assigned. "Term ends in December, so we can have more time to study it then."

The school dress code pertained to the blouse, leaving the book bag, bottoms and accessories up to the students' discretion. Most of the girls wore the same red jacket issued by the school, a charm bracelet and pleated khaki skirts.

I changed into my pleated skirt and opened my closet. There was a collared jacket of every color; whichever suited my particular mood. The ones I used the most were red, black and a faded shade of yellow. "I'm thinking black," I muttered, casting a melancholy look at Danielle. "Because _someone _woke me up too early."

She rolled her eyes in response. "Tie me up?" I ask, dangling the black tie from a finger.

Her fingers fly up to my throat, fastening and readjusting until the tie is just right. "Perfect," she says, then pinches a stray string off. "Okay, now it's perfect. Let's go."

* * *

Danielle POV

The first day, everyone sits in their various cliques. Most of them are led by the Cahills; the most intelligent, the most creative, the most manipulative and the best athletes.

By the second day of term, all the new kids find their little niche in the school. After that, the social order can only be affected by three things: boyfriends, embarrassing moments and switching cliques.

There are the nerds (Ekats), artsy-types (Janus), jocks (Tomas), and the "in" crowd composed of the rest (Lucians).

The only way to gain access to the inner circle of another clique was to have undeniable talent. Even then, they usually iced out the posers in less than a day.

So imagine my surprise when the new kid made a beeline for the Ekat table. He wore a black leather jacket over his uniform, a black tie like Sinead, and impermeable shades.

For someone who seemed to emit Janus from his very pores, this wasn't just social suicide; it was a massacre. All it was going to do was piss everyone at this table off at him, and Sinead would probably do her death-glare.

Oh.

No wonder he looked familiar; it was Sinead's little boyfriend from that ball the other night. Actually, I think he looks better in the leather jacket than the suit during the mission. This should be interesting.

* * *

Sinead POV

Whatever tiny ounce of respect I had for Lilya Chernova went down the drain as she scooted over to make room for Jonah.

"Budge over," she hissed through her teeth, still staring at the guy. "I saw him first."

I almost felt a slight twinge of pity for the poor guy, then I remembered that this was the guy who shot me off a rooftop.

"No. Move yourself."

"I told you to move," hissed Lilya into my ear. Sighing, I scooted over another seat, but in vain; the Janus idiot sat next to me anyway, effectively sandwiching me in between someone who was pissed off at me, and someone who I was pissed off at.

Great.

"Hello, sunshine," he grinned, leaning back in his chair. Looking at my scowl, he smirked. "Tone down the smile a bit; you're blinding me."

Lilya decides to go for the proper introduction. "Good afternoon. I'm Liliana Chernova," she said, batting her glittery eyelashes. I don't know much about make-up, but are they supposed to be clumped together? "Second in line, if you get what I mean."

Danielle elbowed her, because if he wasn't a Cahill, it would mean serious trouble. Besides, it was like putting a target on your head reading "Assassinate me, please!"

Anyway, Lilya barreled on like a low-class individual. "And you may call me Lilya if you like." Looking around, she spotted the first person that had anything in common with him; the fact that John was a boy.

"This is John," she said, putting an arm around his shoulder. "We have a lot of things in common," she fake-giggled, performing an alien hair-flipping maneuver. "I'm sure we'll all be friends. I love, love, love music, don't you?"

Danielle frowned, fingering something below the desk. It was probably a dart gun.

He ripped her hand off his shoulder a bit rudely (but certainly deserved) and made a point of dusting off his shirt (probably unnecessary). "Yes," he said very unconvincingly. "Best friends."

"And this is Danielle; we spend so much time talking together, don't we?"

It looked like Jonah's face was having a muscle spasm from trying not to laugh.

"Good freaking afternoon," my friend interrupted in a mocking version of Lilya's bluebood introduction. "I'm Danielle Phan, and you may call me Dani if you like. This is Sinead Starling."

Oh no, she didn't.

"She's_ first_ in line, if you get what I mean. I'm sure we'll all be happy, have sleepovers and watch My Little Pony together. I love, love, love Rainbow Dash, don't you?"

"Hello Lilya, John and Danielle," he said, sounding amused. "And girl I've never met before," he added, smirking.

"Hello, boy I have never met before," I said loudly. "What graces us with your-" I let out a cough sounding suspiciously like (filthy, disgusting, mangy excuse of a) "presence?"

"Oh, I just happen to love _dances_," he responded, suddenly narrowing his eyes. "Big, glittery, formal ones. I heard this school had lots of them."

Danielle mouthed "busted," and hi-fived John.

Lilya pursed her lips, not knowing what he was hinting at, but she knew she was being left out. "I love the new Christian Louboutin shoes! You know, the ones with the red heels? They go with _everything_."

I refrained from commenting that Christian Louboutin's signature touch was the red soles, therefore they all had them. Something told me that mentioning I'd seen them at a certain ball a while ago would be a quick route to a nice, comfy underground cell.

Oh well; at least they didn't have Lilya in them.

* * *

Rain dripped down the glass window pane as I stared morosely out. Class was over for today, but I'd had to stay a bit after because my locker was stuck. Everyone else had probably made it to their dorms already like Danielle did, judging by a cheerful text sent from the safety of her pillow fort.

Being in the rain was fine, but it felt like a tropical rainforest out there, complete with a herd of evil crocodiles. It was only fall, and had yet to get cold. Winter had always been my favorite season, but fall was unbearable.

And speaking of evil reptilian beasts. . . Lilya appeared at the window I was leaning against and just stood there. Probably not a good idea, since the window was overlooking a long flight of stairs.

"Starling."

"Chernova."

"He likes you," she said unexpectedly, when I had almost reached the middle step. I kept walking, sure it was just the girly version of psychological warfare.

"You just want me to convince him to be in your house," I said, pausing at the immense stone archway that led out. The rain poured down, making a shimmery curtain of water. "It's his choice."

The "houses" were chosen by the students. The dorms were set up in groups of five buildings; each of those was dubbed a house. From there, they were divided into suites, which we resided in. When there were schoolwide competitions, the house competed as a whole, although there were individual events, too. The people who won those could choose a house to give the points to, usually their own. The house that won was lavished with a banquet in their honor, extra dessert at meals, get out of class passes, and new furniture. But the house that hit rock-bottom was awarded the worst job of all in the school: toilet duty.

People in a house spent way too much time together, shared the same complex of dorms, and house punishments. Lilya was in C house, which was the artsy-type; slightly strange for an Ekat.

Danielle, John and I were in A house, which was the imagineers, scientists and inventors (not in that order). Most people in here were Ekats, so that's why Lilya invited herself over all the time. After Danielle woke up to Lilya arranging her precious stuffed animals, she vowed that the next time, she'd be ready for her.

And that, children, is the story of why the front door's electrified, booby-trapped and leads to a crapload of water balloons dumped on your head.

Also, why I've learned to use the back door.

The athletic-types were in House B, which dominated in sports involving brute strength. Everyone at this school is athletic, but they were even more so than those. (House C has mandatory tap-dancing lessons and House A has had more than one incident involving an experiment gone wrong. Lesson learned; when you see someone's pet jelly-fish-tiger-bear that they spliced together lunging at you, run.)

You weren't assigned to a house, but in the rare event of a new student, everyone was jostling for a new member to add to their ranks. Of course, they wouldn't go so far as to gain a new member that was crappy at everything the house stood for.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Flipping it open, I read the message.

_You coming? You know, you could always walk back._

**_That's a great idea, Danielle. Get the towels ready; I'm coming right now._**

_It's wet. What if you have a lead with you?_

_**Then the lead will get wet. Usually, when things are in the rain because their best friend ditched them before they got home, they tend to be a little angry, a little mad, and a little prone to punch something. Get the towels. **  
_

_I can't tell if you're being sarcastic about walking home._

_Sinead?_

_Sinead? You know I wasn't serious, right?_

_Crap._


	4. Shoeboxes Don't Fly

**A.N. Ah, sorry for the confusion. I'll add an explanation to chapter three later, but Lilya and Danielle were referring to their "status in line" for the Ekat leadership (or in Danielle's case, Sinead). ****Since Lucians had it through families, and the Janus (once) had three branch leaders at one time, I figured the Ekats would also have some sort of succession. **

******Usually, the branch leaders are older people who are "wiser" and more capable to run the branch. But age doesn't always equal knowlege, and the Ekats would know that, since they're constantly demeaning people for being dumb. So I would suppose it would run on who's the best agent, instead of it just being given over. And since Lilya and Sinead are so young, it'd be something to brag about.**

******I know in canon it's Bae Oh, but after he gets captured by the Madrigals, Alistair isn't automatically branch leader; he has to try for it. And what if Alistair dies without having any kids? **

**Maybe that's confusing, but envision the president in your head. Since branch leaders are like presidents, I visualized it like this: Branch leader dies branch leader's son if he's not capable Next capable agent Next in line, et cetera, et cetera. Hope that helps, ~ivy**

**And thanks, everyone. That's an average of four reviews per chapter :D! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues! **

Chapter Four: Weasels Don't Die

"Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."  
~ Steven Wright, standup comedian ~

The birds were singing their sweet melody, the sunlight streamed into my window, and it looked like a picture perfect morning. Somewhere right now, a couple was probably gazing starstruck into the sunrise.

Screw you world, I hate you, too.

I moaned, covering myself back up with a blanket. It was so _cold. _Why did I have to walk home yesterday, again? Oh yeah; I was proving a point. A very important point, worth wasting a day nursing a splitting headache.

Pitifully, I rolled over again, smashing my face into the pillow. "Danielle? Can I stay home from school today."

She came in to see what was wrong, and promptly burst into laughter. "That's what you get," she sniggered loudly. "Frolicking home in the rain."

She doesn't seem concerned, as I've done stupid stuff that's made me sick before. I guess I could get charged with more than one count of reckless endangerment. But then who would I sue; myself?

I change into my school clothes and drag myself out of bed. Getting better is ten percent medicine and ninety percent out of pure willpower. Sipping some orange juice, I stagger towards the door in a manner I'm sure looks like a drunkard before Danielle stops me.

"Remember last time?" she says in a no-nonsense tone, walking me back to my room. "You went to gym, you ran the mile and you fainted at the finish line. And you say you have good judgement?"

From the heap of blankets that cover me, I shrug halfheartedly. "I can handle myself. Besides, I still won, didn't I?"

"That's what I mean," she snorts, opening the back door. "Oh, how the mighty are fallen," she recites dramatically, falling to one knee.

I hate being sick; people can insult you all they want and all you can do is sniffle, wipe your nose and wish revenge while watching daytime television in bed. I mutter something about throwing a pillow at her when I get better. Preferably a nice, plump pillow stuffed with rocks.

"I'll send someone to take care of your pitiful self. Maybe you can think about more sarcastic comebacks while you're in bed. Like how if you run home in the rain, you're _probably_ going to get wet. Nighty-night," she calls, closing the back door. I hear the click of the key in the lock before the footsteps descend the stairs.

About an hour later, there's a knock on the back door. Danielle walks in loudly, arms laden with cartons of orange juice, warm/cold compresses, cough medicine, pain reliever, and lots and lots of water.

"Aren't you supposed to be quiet when the patient's sick?" I whine, covering my head with the pillow. She rolls her eyes, saying that the amount of noise she makes isn't going to change, even if it's my funeral.

Depositing the things on my bed, she leaves me with instructions not to antagonize the person.

"Oh, and Sinead? One more thing; the dude's name is Jonah Wizard."

* * *

When he comes in, I'm putting up an elaborate show of how normal Sinead is. I smile, insult him a lot and try to kick him out the door, where he belongs. Unfortunately, he sees right through it. I'm pretty sure the part where I tried to kick him out the door and kicked the ice-box instead tipped him off a little.

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me," I argue loudly, closing my mouth tightly. "Mhmmhmmmmhmhh hmm!"

Jonah looked confused, holding the spoonful of medicine in his hand. "What?"

I opened my mouth just for a tiny bit, to clarify. "I am not eating that!"

He takes advantage of that to force a spoonful down my throat. It tastes like overly sweet candy, and the smirk on his face makes me want to stick my finger down my throat and regurgitate it right back up at him.

"Oh, come on. Haven't you ever seen Mary Poppins?"

Unpleasant memories of a long-forgotten fifth grade musical drift into my head. "Don't get me started on her stupid umbrella," I snap. "Don't you Janus have anything else to do besides make up movies about nannies who slide down banisters?"

"Yeah, look after sick Ekats in our spare time," he retorts, sifting through the various medical supplies. "Need anything else, though?"

I calculate the benefits in my head of having Jonah in my room.

_Pros_

_Spending a day arguing about pointless topics is better than spending a day bored. _

_I could discover new information on the Janus. _

_I need to brush up on my Janus insulting skills. _

_Cons_

_I can't write the branch intelligence report with a baby-sitter looming over my shoulder. _

The fever must be affecting my judgement, because for some strange reason, I want him to stay. So what, we can spend all day arguing and making jabs at each other? Note to self: this side effect must be researched, as it might be dangerous.

In any case, my decision doesn't matter. He smugly informs me that Danielle told him to stay her until my temperature was at least under ninety-four. Right now, it's one-oh-two.

He sits down on the side of the bed, staring at my stuffed animals. "Didn't know you were the unicorn type," he smirks, petting my favorite one.

Any feelings of goodwill towards him I might have once harbored vanish. "Drop the unicorn," I order, sitting up straighter and snatching Fluffy. "Or else."

It's an empty threat, but he picks up a pair of pink and blue striped pegasi. "Which one's which?" he ponders. "It's like a zebra; white with black stripes or black with white stripes?"

"I used to be really into My Little Pony," I say, gathering up the plethora of plushies. "You know; Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy?" Immediately after the words come out of my mouth, I regret them. Even the _names_ sound childish.

But he looks interested, patting Rainbow Dash's fur softly. "Did you make them yourself?" he asks, head tilted towards her aviator goggles.

"Yeah. I did a custom job with the gears and burned the design into the leather."

Spending the day with him isn't as bad as I thought, since neither of us are unconscious and I haven't been drugged in my sleep. Although, there's still that medicine...

We argue for a while about how shoeboxes could possibly be altered to fly, the new Avengers movie and if cheese can be eaten by lactose intolerant people.

Conclusion: shoebox + hungry goat + cheese + unicorn = flying shoebox

Five minutes later, the medicine starts taking its toll. My eyes reluctantly close, my grip on Fluffy lessens and I feel something soft and warm brush my cheek.

I swear to Gideon, those moths will be the death of me. Their papery bodies and too-large eyes creep me out, and they crumple to the ground in a heap when I throw books at them.

Even their deaths are graceful; their bodies slowly wafting to the floor like feathers.

Conclusion: we need a bug swatter.

* * *

**Hah, sneaky Jonah. R & R, constructive criticism too! (Oh, and Rida, Katherine, Tidie, I'm waiting for your 39 Clues stories to get posted *mock glare*)**


	5. Bathrooms and Bedrooms

**Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues! **

* * *

_"The stars lean down to kiss you, and I lie awake and miss you.  
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere,  
Cuz' I'll doze off safe and soundly, but I'll miss your arms around me._

_I'd send a post-card to you, dear.  
Cause I wish you were here." _

_~ Vanilla Twilight - Owl City ~_

Danielle POV

"Mmgh," Sinead moans incomprehensibly, opening one eye lazily. I feel a slight twinge of pity, because that's what I hate the most about waking up: my internal clock getting all out of whack.

Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't going to mess with her.

Groggily sitting up, she glances at the daylight still trickling in. "What time is it, Danny?" she asks, stretching like a cat. "And don't think I've forgiven you for this morning," she adds. "I'm still waiting for that."

"It's six-thirty," I say cheerfully, trying to keep a straight face. Since Sinead likes to wake up at six, this should be interesting.

She jumps up, forgetting she's still in bed. "Am or pm?" my roommate asks frantically, halfway out the door. "I couldn't have slept through the whole day..."

I burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. She narrows her eyes at me, and growls that it's not funny. "Your face...oh, and Jonah went back to his house."

Sinead immediately corrects me on my use of words. "You mean dorm, or suite, right?"

"Yeah, whatever. And it's six-thirty in the evening. Want some ramen?"

She declined, probably because I have a tendency to overcook my noodles, and leave them just perfect for slurping. John pokes his head in, wondering where the cat food is.

"To eat?" I ask dumbly, internally debating what kind of animal was he.

"Yes," he answers with a sarcastic lilt to his voice. He grins, brushing his dirty blonde bangs out of his face. "To eat. I need it to power my new invention, actually."

"I know Lilya has some for her cat," I say, flopping down on Sinead's green beanbag. Her room is designed like a Slytherin's, because that was her favorite Hogwarts house from when she read the Harry Potter books back in, oh, kindergarten? She was surprisingly cynical for a little kid, which is how we met.

She argued that having a teacher was useless, and it was kind of like Stockholm syndrome, the way we were forced to follow a person around blindly for eight hours, and actually _like_ it. On top of that, she also wanted a restraining order.

We were there for each other when Sinead went through the Tetris phase, and managed to be the online world champion, under the username 3k8tg1rl (ekatgirl). We stuck by each other in middle school, and managed to finish our lifetime goal: read through the entire selection for McSouthern Public Library, both public and private collections.

When my dad started telling me to train harder, and I ripped a hamstring, Sinead was there with her green eyes blazing, and forcefully punched the training stimulation hardware. She broke her wrist in the process, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

"While we're here we might as well catch up on the unicorn thing," John says, sitting down next to me. "Okay, session convened. First order of business: remember the theory that one of the artifacts on the summit of Mount Everest is a stone lion?"

"Yes?" Sinead asks, sitting up. She's kind of the official leader, since we told Bae Oh a half-truth about the song bit. Yes, there was a song, but it sure wasn't Dynamite by Taiyo Cruz. He's currently harrarssing the music industry, and bought enough dynamite to destroy a smalll country.

Kind of different from the Lucian version of fox, rabbit and dog, but the same theory. I come up with ideas, and it's John's job to shoot them down as the resident pessimist, usually with a few sarcastic comments of his own.

"Negative."

I groan, burying my head in the nearest item: a stuffed teddy bear. Needless to say, this doesn't bode wonders for my reputation. Sinead automatically awws, and snaps a picture with her ever-present Blackberry. Within five minutes, it's on Facebook.

She gets two likes, three comments saying I look cute with a teddy bear, and twenty asking if it's blackmail. "Focus," I snap, blush spreading on my face. "We can talk about this insufferable thing, you call 'cuteness' after we dominate the world."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "It was too good to resist."

Going down the list, we mark off all the leads we've blown through. That includes the one about the next Olympics, a bear and a tutu, which I so kindly suggested. That leaves the grand total of one.

"Gee," John drawls, looking down at the list. "I wonder how we're going to get through all of these before Christmas."

I slurp up my ramen noisily, causing Sinead to frown in distaste. "Oh c'mon, you're like Lilya waiting for a date. Loosen a little, won't you?" I complete my objective: they both do a double take.

"I'll pretend you just didn't compare me to Chernova," John says, flicking an imaginary piece of dirt off his fingernails. "And I'd prefer not to have my sexuality questioned, thank you."

"Yeah," Sinead adds, leaning on her elbows. "I'm not really sure what gender she is. I was in the bathroom the other day, and I swear I stepped in a puddle of piss. Nobody but a guy could miss that."

"I resent that!" John says, which causes us to roar with laughter, me more so than Sinead. "Really, Danielle? I'll have you know, sweetheart; that hurts."


	6. Sing A Song of Lilya

**Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues! Please read A.N. at bottom, as I'm not sure how many of y'all do.**

Sinead POV

Jim Davis was pretty funny for a Tomas, I had to admit. The cynical orange cat had weaseled its way into my heart, right next to my 'twenty-percent cooler' Rainbow Dash t-shirt and the enormous Cheshire Cat plushie Danielle gave me for my fourteenth birthday.

I was a loyal fan of the comic, but one thing was wrong: Mondays weren't just bad; they were the bane of your existence. If I could choose, I'd rather hug a Lucian than go to school on Monday.

Everything that could go wrong just so happened to do so, on Mondays. The only good thing about Mondays was Song Meanings 101. Our teacher usually dropped a giant packet of songs on us, and spent the class periods hovering over our shoulders, looking at our various interpretations.

There were three types of people: the ones who took everything seriously (Bae Oh), the ones who giggled over love songs (Lilya) and the people who quipped snarky remarks (me and my friends).

We all had different preferences, but it was fun spending an hour and a half of school arguing over verses. John and Danielle loved to criticize love songs, dropping cynical comments whenever a particularly mushy one came up.

The typical class would go like this:

"_If I die young, bury me in sand, lay me down on a - bed of roses, sink me in the river, at dawn; lay me down with the words of a love song."_

I would get two identical smirks, and comments about mummies. How do you get from a love song to mummies?

* * *

Danielle's and John's logic

bury me in sand = body in sand + time wonderfully preserved mummy = the girl will be a mummy = let's gross Sinead out with details of mummies and brain hooks

* * *

Then, if I was particularly unlucky, there would be another brilliant conclusion in a matter of seconds: hey, let's write some verses to the tune of the original song!

Sure, I loved the Egyptian culture as much as any other girl did, and I loved history, but that didn't mean I wanted to be serenaded with a song about brain fluids.

I guess that's kind of a gift in disguise, since their strange thought processes led to our theories about the unicorn. Granted, most of them were wrong, but there were still the elusive few left.

It was usually a fun and engaging class, unless you were reasoning with your teacher that you in fact, did not really need those extra two members.

We were unsuccessful in our emotional appeal (Danielle fell on the floor dramatically, clutching at Gertrude's ancient feet), only extracting a wry smile from Mrs. Pluderbottom and a stern "no."

"Here are your newest table mates!" announced the teacher, a wavy-haired lady whose hair was usually pulled up into a stern bun. Her thinly rimmed glasses and hair defined her personality: strict and taciturn. She usually spent the classes assigning up group projects by table, or a few songs to do, then hovering over students' shoulders like a vulture. There was the rare moment of kindness, but that was like the proverbial needle in a haystack, if the person was also blind.

Chernova wasn't that bad, but she didn't have the quirky sense of humor my friends did, and could be depended on to argue love songs vs. punk rock. And with both of them there, even if Lilya could be trusted not to rat us out to Bae Oh, no progress could be made on the unicorn song.

All in all: a frustrating development.

Mrs. Pluderbottom swept away with a swish of her long skirts, ditching us gracefully. I wish I had some of that grace, then I wouldn't want to kick her in her maroon colored butt.

My original teammates looked less than pleased for our two new additions. Danielle's expression was that of a kicked puppy, and her head slumped on the table. John moved his elbow under her head, so she fell on the crook of his arm (aww). She mumbled something about entrails and fire into his arm, and he nodded sympathetically.

Both of them looked like they did at Bae Oh's sixtieth birthday party, minus the tacky paper hats. Miserable.

"Lethgemeoverth."

"What?"

John translated for my sulking friend, currently incapable of coherent speech.

"She said, let's get this over with."

* * *

At the end of class, we still haven't finished our latest project: six songs of our choosing and how each of us chooses to interpret them. I think the teacher's getting lax, or it was a typo or something, because instead of the usual three weeks, it's three months. When I went to ask, she gave me a small smile and a, "I know what I wrote, Miss Starling."

"Shall we go to my dorm?" suggested Lilya. "I have all my artistic stuff there, and we can use them for a poster or something."

"But since most of us are in C-house," John countered, "shouldn't we go there?"

She cast a furtive glance at Jonah, before asking if he'd gotten all his things moved in yet.

"Huh? Oh yeah. John's my homie, bro. He helped me move in."

Well, I guess that answers her indirect question: he's definitely C.

"So that's where you were!" says Danielle.

John smirks. "You fell asleep first," he reminds her. "You didn't even notice I was gone."

"What movie?" asked Jonah, looking interested. "A chick-flick?"

"No," he says, looking disgusted. "Saw."

"You don't take your girl to watch Sixteen Candles, you take her to watch Saw? Respect, man!" he says, slapping John's hand from the side and shaking it. Lilya scoffs (snorting is unladylike), telling her to stop acting so desperate. Everyone ignored her, but there's a slight tint to Dani's face now.

"But that still doesn't resolve our meeting place," reminds Danielle. "So, our place about ten-nish tonight?" I just know she's itching to run home, lock the doors and set up a force field that will throw Lilya five miles, but she's here and not in our dorm. Her trigger finger's twitching, and if Chernova says one more thing, I have a feeling she'll be unconscious for a few hours.

"Okay, see ya later." John nods, walking off to his next class: Human Psychology.

We've got something more important to do: protecting stuffed animals from the likes of Chernova. Now let me see, where'd I leave that three-hundred mega-volt generator again?

* * *

**A.N. I just confused Clara-the-unconfusable. Um, lemme see. Unfinished stories: A Matter of Family, Catalyst, Damaged Goods and The Color Purble. I'm not really concerned with The Color Purble, since it was really a way to throw off writer's block. Heh, I guess it's a habit; get stuck on one story, start another. I think the ones I know where I'm going with are A Matter of Family and Catalyst, to be honest. **

** ~ivy**


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